Kindness Come in All Forms
by Kytanic
Summary: People come in all shapes and sizes; now more than ever. But the only thing Kaliyah is concerned about it keeping her autistic sister, Breylena in a safe and comfortable place, even if she has to degrade herself daily to do so. Slow burn romance and eventual smut. F!OC/Sans


_A/N: Heyyy, it's LaS! :) This is my first Undertale fic, so please don't be too harsh. I was super excited to start writing this one. It's really helping me get my juices flowing with some of my other stories as well. What better to get the mind going than drama, angst, family warmth and some good ol' skeleton smut sauce to go on top. ;)_

 _Follow me at: .com_

* * *

"So baby, 300 for the night, yeah?" The man growled, digging for his wallet while he ate up her form with his eyes.

"You got it, hun. I'm all yours for the whole night." She winked and slid a hand down her form as if he weren't staring enough. Eh, it was worth the extra effort for some tips.

My name is Kaliyah Moresgrove. Most people call me Kali, and if someone is paying enough, they can call me whatever they damn well please.

As you probably noticed, I'm not exactly working the most legal job on the planet. Everything about what I do is wrong and immoral on so many levels, and the few times I have been discovered by "family" or ex-friends, they certainly voiced such very loudly and angrily. I don't even try to defend myself anymore, because there is no point. If someone views me as just some slut grubbing for a few dollars, they can go right ahead and stick their noses up. Sad fact was, in this city you either had to make six figures or do what I do. And I could care less about their opinions. The only one that matters in my life is my baby sister, Breylena.

It's difficult not being able to leave this place. To be honest, I would have loved nothing more than to move all the way to California if I had the chance. I have the money for it. But you see, my sister is the one who needs to stay. The school she is in has proven to be the best for people with her type of problem. Autism is a slippery slope; even if she is higher functioning, she has a really hard time voicing what she needs and often has meltdowns over the simplest things. However, I have never met someone so gifted in art in all my life. She could paint a new Mona Lisa easily and the paintings she has around the apartment are absolutely breathtaking. The doctors said that may have had something to do with the fact that since she can't communicate all that well, she puts her feelings and thoughts into her art.

But she hasn't been very artsy in the past year and a half. Since our Mom died and Tony skipped out on town, disowning us as his children, she hasn't been doing too great. Our Mom was an incredible person who loved us both like crazy. Things had gotten better too since her and Tony had separated. When they were together, he would insult Brey constantly, making jabs about how she would moan quietly to herself when she was afraid and how 'stupid' she was because she couldn't read all that well. Mom tried her best to defend her, and then I would defend Mom. That usually always ended up in someone getting bruises and Tony running off to get drunk. A really sickening excuse for a human being if you could even think of him as one.

And then she died. It was sudden, the police saying that she had OD'd on pain killers on accident and her heart stopped. My sister and I were both there, but Brey didn't really understand, and just kept muttering to herself and her 'alter egos' as if she was really trying hard to process Mom's death. I tried my best to explain it, but she needed to work it out in her mind. She may have a disability, but she still was a 16 year old. That was when we also found out that no one else in the family wanted to take Brey and me in until I found a decent job. And the one relative, our Aunt Terra, was all the way in Texas, which just wasn't an option with Brey's schooling. So, I did the only logical thing. I set up shop right here in New York, and promised Breylena that she wouldn't have to worry anymore.

It was easy enough for me to get into the job. Had a friend of a friend that was pretty lenient about things as long as you brought in a good amount. Wouldn't exactly call him a "pimp", but I suppose that's what they are called. I just came off lucky to get a guy who was at the worst times, bossy. Anyway, when I met up with him at his apartment on the upper floor of some ritzy complex, he practically hired me on the spot. Most of the girls that came to him were skinny and had no curve to them, but in his eyes I was a catch. Long brown hair that flowed down to my mid-back in waves, lightly tanned skin, a double D chest and an ass that he claimed must have been carved by gods. That coupled with my 'cute' height of 5'4" and my fierce green eyes, and he said I would be making bank in no time.

And he was right. I was snatched up twice on my first night and after that the money just kept pouring in. Soon enough I was able to afford a pretty nice apartment with two bedrooms and two baths, which is a big deal in a city like New York. Not to mention the incredible view of the park and the city about three miles away. Everything was going great, up until the event about 2 years ago.

The old stories about monsters had proven to be true when hundreds of them flowed up from Mt. Ebbot. It was crazy watching it on the news. It was the top story for that whole first year, terrorism taking a time-out in the zero publicity corner. Everyone was so shocked, and I would be lying if I didn't drop my bowl of cereal at the sight of a giant goat monster talking into microphones at the opening just two days after they spilled out. What was even crazier was that the one who apparently 'saved' them from beneath the mountain was an eleven year old girl who had been reported missing a few months back. Despite her age, she spoke with some kind of weird wisdom, begging people to acknowledge that the monsters were not dangerous in the slightest and had longed to see the surface for such a long time. Breylena was convinced that the child , Frisk, must have been some kind of super hero. And I could only agree.

After the shock wore off and the monsters began debating for certain rights to the U.S. congress, that's when all the bullshit really started. They were being fought for even the dumbest of things, like being able to shop at human grocery stores or being able to own a home in human cities. Of course, they could only be put off for so long before progress had to be made, and as of this year, monsters had most of the same rights as humans did. The only things that were still an issue were marriage between human and monster and the right to own weapons of any sort. Oh, and of course racism was rampant and stories of monsters being killed and beaten and their homes being burned coated the news like slick poison on the media's knife that they just kept jabbing into the fights for equality.

But people don't change their hearts over a few piles of dust. No, if that were the case, this world would have fixed itself already. If the monsters were expecting things to get better, they were in for a very sore surprise.

* * *

Loud purring next to my ear roused me from my dozing mind. I rolled over, groaning and burrowing my face in my blankets.

"Dutch, just tear open the food bag. God knows you probably found it again," I grumbled from beneath the fluffy blankets. He just plopped his butt against the back of my head, purring like an obnoxious motor. I sighed, opening my eyes and untangling myself from my blankets, earning a meow from the chubby, white cat. I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and stood, a little unsteady as I let out a loud yawn as I stretched, my old t-shirt raising from the waistband enough to see a bit of my midriff. I turned to walk to the door and reached to open it when I caught my reflection in my vanity mirror and grimaced.

Yeah, I looked pretty disheveled from sleep, my hair sticking up everywhere, but what made me cringe was the finger sized bruises on my shoulders and neckline. Those , the uncomfortable burn or sore muscles in my thighs, and the left over mascara ringing my eyes did not make me look or feel very healthy. I sighed deeply, reaching for my thick concealer and applied it over the bruises to at least hide them from Brey.

 _At least the asshole payed good in tips,_ I thought bitterly, smoothing the thick cream over the marks. _I'm gonna need to start charging double for these rough ones._

"Kareeyah?" _Shit._ I slapped on one more glob over the largest bruise and rubbed it in before the door opened, revealing my younger sister. She already had her hair brushed, her black hair chopped short around her heart shaped face and her green eyes narrowed as she watched me from the doorway, her fingers toying with her sleeves. A nervous tick.

"We need to eat breakfast now." She stated matter of factly, but her eyes wanted to say something else. It was always like that. Like she wanted to say what was on her mind but didn't want to trip too much on her words. I smiled at her reflection in my mirror.

"Yeah, Brey, I'll be out in a sec, okay? Can you start the oatmeal? Remember you need to use the medium pan and boil the water at high heat, then turn it down and add the oatmeal," I instructed, tying up my hair in a messy bun. It would be a while before I had to go to work, so the messy appearance would have to work for now.

"Sure thing," She said happily, disappearing from view. I smiled a little to myself. She was so damn adorable, it' hard to believe anyone could be mean to her at all. She could brighten my day with just a grin and an awkward hug. Dutch seemed content too, as Brey noticed him wandering around his food bowl and ritually poured the whiny cat some food.

I grabbed my phone off my nightstand and walked out to the kitchen to supervise, or "admire", her cooking. She had been getting a lot better at cooking for herself, though she didn't like to do anything very complicated. Mostly just oatmeal, mac and cheese, and mashed potatoes. God, I had probably eaten enough of those three things to last me a lifetime and like five more.

I flipped through messages absently, a couple from Dean (my 'boss') saying good job and stuff like that, a few from Aunt Terra, and the rest from wanton lovers past. I started giving out my number to a few guys that were actually pretty decent to me in hopes of snagging some regulars, but it mostly just ended up with them thinking that I had some kind of romantic interest in them, even if I stated, repeatedly, that this was strictly a business arrangement.

I puckered my lips slightly in annoyance seeing a few names that had already been rejected several times, and swiftly began deleting evidence. Breylena never went through my phone, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She couldn't know what I do to keep a roof over our heads and living rather comfortably with the held of her SSI.

"It's all done. Can we put honey on it now?" She asked as she was already reaching for the bowls and spoons. When she had them set out next to the stove, I walked over and grabbed a bottle of honey off of one of the spice shelves.

"Can you dish us up?" She muttered her usual 'sure thing' and dished us both up about two scoops of oatmeal each. I was always in charge of the honey because sometimes her eyes were bigger than her stomach and she would feel sick later if she ate too much. When she was done, I stepped beside her and did a couple swirls of honey on each and put it back on the shelf. After jabbing the instant mush with our spoons, we went to the dining area.

The apartment wasn't actually that large. It had an open floor plan with the dining area sitting beside the kitchen and a large open sitting area with a fireplace and our TV mounted above that. There were two bedroom and two bathrooms, allowing us to have our privacy, and possibly the best feature of the apartment was the walk out balcony that overlooked downtown in the distance over the park. It was simple, but simple was pretty expensive in this city, especially for the square footage.

Brey immediately dug in, happy with her food.

"I made really good oatmear!" She grinned from ear to ear after swallowing her first bite, her eyes asking me if I liked it too. I nodded and smiled back.

"Yeah, it's the best! But you know that's not how to say it. There is an L at the end, not an R. Try again?" I prompted gently, earning a curious look from her before she looked down at her bowl, as if trying to place something in her head.

"Oatmea- _l_ ," She said, heavily accenting the L at the end. I smiled.

"Yep, that perfect. Good job, Brey!"

She giggled and continued eating.

I watched her for a bit, happy that she was still able to smile so much despite the pain she had suffered through. Sure, I had gone through the same thing, but it seemed so much worse for her. At least I could easily drawn the conclusions and didn't have to hear, "Your Mom is dead. She did it to herself," over and over until she finally just broke down in tears. That was the worst part, seeing her cry. She was always so strong and grinning even at that asshole, Tony. She treated everyone so well, even if they didn't treat her right. And seeing her drop to the ground at the psychologists office and just burst into tears was the worst moment of my life. It was right there that I promised to myself and to her that I would always guard her smile, just like I guarded her and Mom from Tony.

"Are you sad?" The question broke me from my thoughts, and I saw Brey staring at me, her eyes bright with concern. It wasn't until I felt a damp trail make it's way down my cheek that I realized I started crying at the memory. I quickly wiped my eyes, smiling.

"No, no, I was just thinking. Sorry, Brey." She tilted her head, confusion evident.

"But you were crying. That means you're sad." I glanced down at my oatmeal, poking at it.

"Sometimes people cry because they think of something that hurts them. And sometimes it's because they are thinking of something that makes them happy." I glanced up, already expecting what would come next. She still looked confused, then she made a clicking noise in her throat and she turned toward the door.

"Come in, Terra."

"What's wrong Breylena?"

"Kareeyah is crying."

"Is she sad?"

"No, she isn't."

"Then why is she crying?"

She continued to explain what I had said the her 'alter ego' repeatedly, trying to understand the new information. This was pretty normal. She found it easiest to remember new things if she appointed herself the teacher of a situation and 'taught' her other people the new information. I just let her do it, finishing my oatmeal while listening to her calculated babbling.

* * *

"Remember, don't answer the door for anyone. No asking who's there either. Unless I tell you someone is coming over, don't answer the door," I instructed just as I had countless times before, pulling on my black boot heels.

"Sure thing," Brey chimed, watching me get ready from a dining room chair with Dutch curled happily in her lap, pleased with the pleasant strokes he was getting.

"And no eating too much sugar or honey or you'll get sick. There is some leftover Chinese in the fridge that I have all set to go for you. You just have to take off the foil and put it in the microwave for one minute and thirty seconds."

"Sure thing."

"And no staying up too late. You have school in the morning."

"Sure thing. I want to see my friends tomorrow," She said in her chipper tone. I smiled one last time at her.

"Okay. I'll be back late. Be safe."

"Be safe, Kareeyah."

And with that I slipped out the door and locked it shut. I stuffed the key into my black purse and swung it over my shoulder. It was cold tonight, and the big, black, London style coat wasn't gonna do too much to protect me from the cold, even with my thicker pair of black jeans and low cut burgundy sweater. I'm going for a more relaxed kind of vibe tonight, which will hopefully bring in some of the more shy patrons. I pulled my hat onto my head and spared one last glance at the door behind me, feeling my lips quirk up slightly.

 _At least you'll be nice and cozy, Brey. That's all I care about._

* * *

 _A/N: -Internal screaming at cuteness- I love writing Brey. She;s so cute dammit and I hope you guys think so too!_

 _So I just want to say before I continue and if anyone is wondering, I am actually basing Brey off of my little sister, who also has autism. So, if anyone is wondering where I get her ticks from, that;s it. :)_

 _Also, don't worry, Sans will be in the next chapter. ;)_


End file.
